


immigrant song

by orphan_account



Category: Hockey RPF, Marvel
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Anal Sex, Electricity, M/M, Marvel Universe, Possessive Behavior, Roleplay, Rough Sex, Secret Identity, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 06:24:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15575721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I will be what you want me to be,” says Loki sweetly, and then like that, he breathes a deep breath, mouth opening into a pretty ‘o’ before he collapses back against the pillows, all of the mannerism of Loki gone. Before Thor is a boy, a boy who’s currently trying to remove his shirt.“Jonny,” Patrick whines, fingers calloused as they scrape against the skin of his stomach. “Jonny,off.”Thor did not agree to play the role of Patrick’s pretend brother, but it’s not like they haven’t done this before.orLoki is cast out of Asgardagainand takes on the disguise of Patrick Kane, professional ice hockey player. Thor is sent to fetch him and is forced to take on the disguise of Jonathan Toews, Kane's adopted older brother.





	immigrant song

**Author's Note:**

> ahh, so i have no idea how to describe this fic, other than i wanted to mix my love of jonny/patrick with thor/loki (both thor and jonny are wrapped around their drama queens' fingers).

It is Frigga, their Lady Mother, who casts Loki out.

“Loki _Odinson_ ,” she sighs, shoulders heavy as she puts emphasis on the name only to make Loki scowl, “I cast you out.” She is worn and tired of his tricks and his insatiable need for mischief.

“Moth—” Loki starts, but Frigga waves her hand tiredly, dismissing him with a flourish of wind and sorcery. Loki is gone in a blink of an eye, leaving Thor alone in the hall with only their mother.

“I need a century,” she says to him, looking worn in ways that he’s never seen her look before. She peers at him for a long moment, silent.

Thor peers back, squaring his shoulders, but he is powerless against his Mother’s soft look. He sighs, letting his shoulders fall. “I am my brother’s keeper.”

Frigga smiles, the smile not quite reaching her eyes. She sighs deeply, waving her hand.

Thor feels the wind sweeping up around him, jerking him every which way.

 

 

 

 

It is more than a century before Thor is sent to fetch Loki.

Mother has sent him to Midgard like she always does whenever Loki has defeated her into banishing him.

Loki detests humans. Stripping him of his most powerful seiðr and sending him to live among them is Mother’s oldest punishment. It buys her only a century at a time of rest from Loki’s magic, but it is rest she greatly needs, and with Loki weakened and his seiðr stripped, there is no terrible, world-destroying mischief that he can get into.

This time Loki has been relatively quiet in his exile, using what little magic Mother has left to him to transform himself throughout the years in a city called Buffalo.

Thor is to begin his fetching there, but by the time he arrives, Loki has moved on to a city named Chicago, where he is acting as savior to a professional ice hockey team.

Loki has disguised himself as a man—no, as a _boy_ of blond curls and soft blue eyes, boyish in youth and body. He looks different from any other form he has ever taken while on Midgard, skin pale and nose narrow, a little gap between his two front teeth. He goes by the name of Patrick Timothy Kane II, and the people of Chicago have high expectations for him to save their absolutely rubbish hockey team.

He finds Loki in a bar where his new form is far too young by American standards to be. Loki is surrounded by men nearly twice his age, sipping on various cocktails that he definitely has no plans to pay for.

Thor watches Loki for an hour, feeling a low, angry simmer of jealously pooling in the pit of his stomach.

Loki might be a mischievous little shit, but he is _Thor’s_.

“Brother,” he says, approaching Loki from behind, intimidating the other men out of his way with his bulk; he’s had enough of watching them press their slimy fingers to his brother’s thighs.

Loki doesn’t look surprised at his presence, not even at Thor’s disguise. Mother has changed his color to brown, his eyes dark and his skin tan. He is not as bulky as usual, but Loki could recognize his skeleton alone.

Loki takes a long sip of his martini, the alcohol making his skin flush red as he peers at Thor, head ever so slightly cocked to the side. It looks strange on his boyish face, _innocent_ , but Thor knows that there is nothing innocent about Loki.

“I have come to fetch you.”

“Dearest Mother is allowing me home?” Loki sneers, top lip curling, but it has little effect with his new face. He looks more like an insolent child than the God of Mischief.

“You are coming home,” sighs Thor, already tired of Loki although their journey has yet to begin. He cups the back of Loki’s neck, ready to guide him from the bar, but pauses, momentarily enticed by how big his hand feels around Loki’s neck.

He has always been bigger than Loki. Not so much taller, but where he is nothing but bulk Loki has always been lean muscle. In this form Loki seems smaller than usual, like Thor could easily snap his neck with one squeeze of his hand.

“Oh dear brother,” purrs Loki, grinning slyly, but it gets lost on his youthful face. His eyes flick up and down, taking in Thor’s bulk. “I have missed you.”

Thor squeezes Loki’s neck, feeling the soft skin there. “Have you missed me dear brother? Or have you missed my cock?”

Loki sneers, jerking his neck from Thor’s grasp. “Do not flatter yourself, brother.”

Thor grins, leaning against the bar, trapping Loki against the wall. “You are coming home with me.”

Loki sneers at him, opening his mouth to spit something vicious, but he is interrupted.

“Kaner, this guy bothering you?” it’s one of Loki’s teammates, the one he’s taken a particular liking to.

Loki steels his face into a sweet smile. “I’m fine, Sharpy,” he says, turning in his seat to look at Sharp.

“You sure?” asks Sharp, giving Thor a long look of disappointment.

Thor stands up straight. He will not allow a mere human to come between him and his brother. Loki rolls his eyes, placing his hand on Thor’s chest in a meek attempt to calm him. “Sharpy,” he says sweetly. “Meet my brother.”

Sharp’s eyebrows go up in shock. “ _Brother_?”

Loki nods, taking a sip of his martini. “Yes, my brother. Jonathan. Jonathan Toews.”

Thor glances sideways at Loki, cursing the little shit. “Hello,” he says to Sharp. Sharp stares at him.

“I was adopted,” Loki explains, sighing sadly. Thor resists rolling his eyes. “My relationship with my adoptive father isn’t the best, you know? So I keep my birth name.” Loki manages to look even more pathetic in this form when he tells the story than he does back on Asgard.

Sharp doesn’t look like he quite believes the story, but he drops it, sticking his hand out to shake hands. “Nice to meet you, Jonathan.”

“Jonny,” Thor corrects automatically, not liking the sound of Jonathan as he shakes Sharp’s hand.

“Patrick Sharp, but you can call me Sharpy,” Sharp says, looking between them with suspicion before his eyes land on Kaner. “Who bought you those drinks?”

Loki flutters his eyelashes innocently, shrugging. “I didn’t get their names. My _big brother_ interrupted before they could tell me.”

He pouts, stirring his drink with his straw, looking very much like a _child_.

“He is mischievous,” says Thor, taking the drink from Loki to take a sip. He resists the urge to gag. Midgardian alcohol is so bland. “Our mother sent me to check up on him.”

Sharpy nods, grinning. “I told Donna I would keep an eye on him.”

Donna must be the woman who’s been posing as Loki’s mother for that past few years. “I see you’ve been doing a good job of it,” Thor says, forcing a rude smile as he surveys the empty drinks at the bar.

Sharpy swallows, grip tightening on his drink.

“I think we’ll be going home now,” interrupts Loki, taking his drink from Thor and downing it in one fatal swoop.

“I told Stan I would bring you home,” protests Sharpy.

“I’ll make sure he gets home,” says Thor.

Sharpy looks like he wants to protest, but Loki grabs Thor by his wrist. “Jonny will take care of me. He always does, Sharpy.”

Sharpy sighs, nodding. “See you later, Peeks.” He gives Thor a disapproving look. “It was nice meeting you, Jonny.”

“You too,” says Thor before he lets Loki drag him away by his wrist.

When they’re outside the bar, Thor tugs his wrist from Loki’s grasp and shoves him into a dark alley, pressing Loki up against the wall. “Peeks?” he says. “Sharpy?”

“They are nicknames,” explains Loki, putting up no resistance. Thor takes a step back. Loki might be without his seiðr, but he is still very capable of stabbing Thor. “Everyone on the team has one.”

Thor shakes his head. “Come,” he says, grabbing Loki’s delicate wrist. “We are going home.”

Loki digs his heels into the ground. “I am not going home.”

Thor stops. “What?”

“I am not going home,” Loki repeats, face schooled into a steely expression of stubbornness. “I wish to stay here.”

“What,” repeats Thor, disbelieving.

“ _I wish to stay here_.” Loki’s jaw is tight, meeting Thor’s eyes and refusing to look away.

“You _hate_ Asgard.”

Loki shrugs. “I must admit, it’s not terrible.”

“You hate humans.”

“These ones might have grown on me.”

Thor opens and closes his mouth, shaking his head in disbelief. “You wish to _stay_.”

“I will not let you take me back to Asgard,” says Loki.

Thor rubs at his eyes, truly not believing this. Loki hates humans. He _hates_ them, and yet, he wishes to _stay_.

“Please, brother,” Loki begs, stepping forward into Thor’s space and pulling his hands from his face. “Wouldn’t it be better for Asgard to keep me here, only for a little while longer? Surely it will give Mother the rest she so desperately needs.”

“What are you up to?”

Loki shrugs, a movement he usually doesn’t do, but he’s adopted the mannerism of the humans he’s constantly surrounded by. “I am wanted here, brother. I am _needed_.”

“You are wanted at home.”

Loki laughs. “Wanted by _who_?”

“Me,” says Thor quietly—and there, that’s the problem. Mother loves Loki, and Father too, in his own twisted way, but Asgard views Loki as a curse, a mischievous thing to be constantly watched or locked away or cast out. Only Thor has loved him with his entire being—only Thor comes to his defense and pretends that Loki’s hunger for power is only a mild personality trait.

Loki wishes to stay because he is wanted here, needed here.

Thor sighs. Mother will not be happy that he has failed in his mission to bring Loki home, but Loki is right. For now it is best to keep him here, subdued while he is still willing to be. “You may stay,” he relents. “You may stay, as long as you continue to behave.”

Loki snorts. “Without my magic, what do you expect for me to accomplish, brother?”

“You could stab someone,” answers Thor without needing to think. “You could stab _multiple_ people.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” says Loki, feigning innocence.

Thor shakes his head fondly. Loki grins at him, a gap between his teeth that he would normally never allow. Thor finds it endearing.

“Now, take me home, brother,” says Loki, grabbing Thor’s hand. “You did promise Sharpy.”

“I have nowhere to take you home,” admits Thor. His plan was to grab Loki and then call for Heimdall to bring them home, not for Loki to stay.

Loki rolls his eyes, sighing annoyedly. “Useless you are.” He pulls Thor from the alley, dropping his hand when they get to the street before easily hailing a cab.

“The Four Seasons,” he tells the driver after they’ve crawled in.

The driver blinks at him, awe-struck. “You’re Patrick Kane.”

“Yes,” Loki agrees, smiling charmingly. “Do you have something for me to sign?”

The driver nods quickly, reaching into the glove department to grab a hat and pen. It has the Chicago Blackhawks logo across the front. “I always keep it on me just in case, y’know.” He blushes, looking embarrassed.

“Tonight’s your lucky night,” says Loki, signing neatly across the logo before he hands the hat back over. “My brother here forgot to book a room.”

The driver laughs, starting the car.

Thor watches all of this in silence. He’s known Loki his whole life, but it has always been hard, even for him, to tell when Loki is being sincere.

Loki tips the driver generously when they get to the hotel, wishing him luck and even signing a paper for the man to give to a friend.

“You—” starts Thor.

“Come,” says Loki, leading Thor into the hotel lobby.

Loki is recognized there too, even if the staff try to stay as professional as possible. They laugh at Thor’s stupidity of not booking a room while he just stands there, watching in disbelief.

“Of course we have a room for your brother, Mr. Kane,” the receptionist says, taking Loki’s credit card with a smile.

“You’re the best,” says Loki with a boyish grin. “I won’t forget this.”

The receptionist grins, eventually handing over the credit card and room key.

Thor can only follow behind Loki dumbly as they make their way through the hotel to his room.

“Loki,” he says in the elevator.

Loki only grins, taking his hand when the elevator opens, dragging him down the hall to their room. He opens the door easily, gliding in, movements sure. He shuts the door behind them quietly, flicking the lights on.

The room isn’t just a room—it’s a series of room. “How can you afford this, Loki?”

Loki tilts his head. “Does it matter?” he says, toeing off his shoes. “It’s yours for the next week.”

“Week?” repeats Thor.

Loki nods, crowding into his space. “It is suspicious, dear brother, for you to appear one night and then disappear the next.”

Thor lifts his eyebrows, knowing fully well that this is Loki’s way of asking him to stay; he has too much pride to outright ask. “You live to upset Mother.”

Loki grins devilishly. “It is my greatest joy.” They both know that is a lie. Loki _adores_ Mother despite her constant casting out—she is the one who taught him everything he knows about magic.

Thor shakes his head, stepping away from Loki to circle the room. “What magic did you use on these people?”

“Magic, brother?” Loki says, walking through the spacious living room to the bedroom, stopping in the doorway to peer at Thor. “Is it really so unbelievable that these people could like me without magic?”

“You?” says Thor, grinning. “No, not _you_ , Loki.” He shakes his head. “These people do not like Loki. They like Patrick Kane.”

“We are one and the same,” says Loki, lifting his head proudly.

“No,” Thor shakes his head, walking towards Loki. Loki takes a step backwards. “You are not one in the same. If these people only knew who you truly were, Loki.”

Loki sneers at him as Thor continues to walk forward, forcing him backwards into the bedroom. “Perhaps, brother, I should call you Patrick?”

Loki raises his eyebrows. “Is that what you would like brother? For me to be someone I am not?”

“Why not, brother?” counters Thor, flicking the light on. He can feel the electricity growing between them. He has missed Loki’s body beneath his. “Are you not always pretending to be something that you are not? You are not Asgardian but Jotunheim, and yet, even in Asgard, you parade around in Asgardian skin.”

Loki sneers. “Father—”

“You, my dear brother, are not Loki. Not here at least.” Thor continues to walk, forcing Loki backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed. Loki stumbles backwards, landing gracefully.

“Who am I then, brother?” asks Loki, eyes going heavy lidded as he looks at Thor. He licks his lips appreciatively, forming a sly smirk when Thor chases after him, a knee between Loki’s thighs.

“You are Patrick Kane,” says Thor, feeling sparks of electricity dancing at his fingertips, unable to keep his excitement contained. He will finally be able to touch Loki—no, _Patrick’s_ body after such a long absence.

“I will be what you want me to be,” says Loki sweetly, and then like that, he breathes a deep breath, mouth opening into a pretty ‘o’ before he collapses back against the pillows, all of the mannerism of Loki gone. Before Thor is a boy, a boy who’s currently trying to remove his shirt.

“Jonny,” Patrick whines, fingers calloused as they scrape against the skin of his stomach. “Jonny, _off_.”

Thor did not agree to play the role of Patrick’s pretend brother, but it’s not like they haven’t done this before. Loki says it’s called roleplaying.

Thor takes a deep breath.

“You’re a slut,” says Jonny, the words falling from his mouth easily. “A desperate little slut.” He grabs the bottom of Patrick’s shirt, raking it up under his armpits to expose his pink nipples, hard from the cold air in the room.

Patrick makes a whining noise, hips bucking up, but Jonny uses his weight to keep him down. “Do they know, little brother?” he say, lips teasing at the sensitive little nubs, thriving at the noise Patrick makes when he bites down.

“Do your teammates know much you beg to get fucked by your big brother?” he asks, scrabbling at Patrick’s belt buckle. “How much you demand to have your brother’s fat cock in you?”

Patrick whimpers, shaking his head. “ _Jonny_.”

Jonny gets Patrick’s belt undone, popping the button on his jeans and the pulling the zipper down too. “Answer me,” says Jonny, feeling possession bubble up inside of him, fingers sparking as he drags Patrick’s jeans and underwear down, unceremoniously dropping the clothes at the end of the bed when Patrick is naked.

“No,” gasps Patrick, gasping in shock when Jonny’s electrified fingers dance meanly across his skin. “Jonny they—”

“I should tell Sharp,” Jonny smirks, zapping Patrick’s nipple. Patrick cries out, recoiling in pain, but he comes back, begging for more.

“ _Don’t_ ,” begs Patrick, scrambling at Jonny’s shirt to get it over his head. “He can’t know.”

“But he _should_ ,” snaps Jonny, giving Patrick what he wants by finally removing his shirt. Patrick rakes his blunt nails down his chest, leaving scratch marks over ancient scars. “He’s supposed to be watching you. And what does he do? Let filthy men touch what belongs to _me_.”

Jonny— _Thor_ —is playing a character, but these words are true. Patrick— _Loki_ —is _his_. His and his _alone_ and he will not share his brother with anyone.

“I am _yours_ ,” chokes Patrick as the electricity increases, dancing across his body, skinned raised in goosebumps.

Jonny growls, slowling the electricity until it’s nothing but a smooth hum. “ _Mine_ ,” he sighs, kissing the softness of Patrick’s throat.

“Yours,” Patrick agrees. “I am yours, dear brother.” Patrick’s face is stubborn and proud, and in that moment he is Loki, God of Mischief, Thor’s Beloved. “As stupid as it is, I am yours.”

Thor grins, kissing Loki’s throat again. These games are the only time when Loki allows himself to be open and free like this, to admit in his own way that he loves Thor in return.

“Stop looking at me like that, you oaf,” snaps Loki when the look of adoration on Thor’s face must become too much for him. “Get on with it. Claim me as yours, _Jonathan_.”

“Little brat,” says Thor, leaving Loki temporarily to strip of the remainder of his clothes.

When he is naked, he climbs between Loki’s thighs again, drawing Loki’s shirt from him. “Do you wish to continue our game?” he asks, sighing appreciatively when their cocks slide together. It feels rough, but it has been so long since he felt Loki’s body against his own.

“Finish what you started, _Jonny_ ,” whines Loki, slipping back into his Patrick persona easily. He truly is one for the dramatics.

“Jonny _please_ ,” he says, rocking his hips up against Thor, cocks sliding together, dry, his cock head catching on Thor’s hip and leaving a trail of wetness. “Brother, _please_.”

“Little slut,” says Thor, slipping back into Jonny. “Fucking little slut.”

Patrick grins slyly, pulling Jonny down for a kiss, nipping and biting at his bottom lip and chasing his tongue. “Fuck me,” he breathes. “ _Fuck me_.”

Jonny’s fingers are suddenly slick with lube. He grunts a laugh, happy that Mother has left Patrick enough magic for this.

He wraps his large hand around Patrick’s cock, pumping slowly, watching the way he tugs at his bottom lip in pleasure. “ _Jonny_ ,” he moans, mouth opening prettily. “Jonny.”

“Patience is a virtue, sweetheart,” Jonny says, grinning when Patrick’s face slips into Loki’s sneer; Loki hates pet names. “I’ll take care of you, darling.” Patrick sneers again, but he turns his head away, obviously resisting the urge to snap at him (or worse, stab him).

Jonny kisses down Patrick’s chest, stopping to kiss at the softest spots of his body, frowning at new scars. “I will kill whoever left these here.”

“They’re from skates,” Patrick mumbles, sighing happily when Jonny kisses at his pale thighs.

“I will destroy all skates,” Jonny grunts.

Patrick rolls his eyes, the movement stopping when Jonny runs a wet finger over his hole.

“Have you missed me here?” Jonny asks, biting at Patrick’s soft cheek. Patrick nods, licking his lips, grunting when Jonny slides his finger in to the knuckle. Patrick is tight, body seizing up from the sudden intrusion.

“Relax,” says Jonny quietly, working his finger in and out. “I will take care of you. I always have.”

He adds two more fingers when he’s sure that Patrick is ready. Patrick makes quiet noises, gasping when Jonny finds that sweet spot within him. “Here has missed me,” he says, pressing his fingers there again to watch Patrick jerk and throw his head back in pleasure. “Are you ready for me, brother?”

“Get on with it,” Patrick snaps, very un-Patrick like, but Jonny grins, pulling his fingers free. He bites at Patrick’s thighs meanly, loving the way he jerks and curses at him.

“I will have you,” says Jonny, lining his cock up with Patrick’s rim. He takes Patrick’s bottom lip between his teeth as he pushes in, moaning at the tightness, squeezing him like a vice. By the gods it’s been too long since he felt the warm clutch of his body.

He stills, giving Patrick time to adjust to his girth.

“I said _fuck_ me,” Patrick snaps eventually, rolling his hips back against Jonny, dragging his legs up to wrap around his waist and dig his heels into his lower back.

“I thought Patrick was sweeter than this,” Thor says, slipping out of his role.

Loki bares his teeth. “Fuck him.” He digs his fingers into Thor’s short hair, tugging. “Fuck this hair of yours.”

"I thought you would like my short hair,” says Thor, dragging Loki’s body further down the bed to fuck into him better. His brown locks had been cut by accident—set on fire, really. There had been no saving it. Mother says he looks even more handsome than he did before.

Loki growls, tugging Thor’s hair again. It hurts, but it’s a good hurt, and only spurs Thor on to fuck Loki hard, liking the sound of the headboard against the wall and the pained noises Loki makes as he he’s stuffed full of cock.

“Gods,” Thor sighs, feeling his balls draw tight, Loki’s ass warm and wet, clutching at him like a vice. “ _Gods_ , Loki.”

“Be quiet and fuck me harder,” snaps Loki, hips bucking beautifully, giving it just as well as he’s taking it.

Thor growls. He pulls out suddenly, enjoying the look of annoyance and shock on Loki’s face. “You _oaf_ ,” spits Loki, looking ready to stab him, but Thor backs away, grabbing Loki by his legs and flipping him suddenly. “What are you—” he starts, but Thor hikes his hips up, spreading Loki’s cheeks and sliding back in to the hilt.

Loki lets out a drawn out moan, fingers scrabbling in the sheets for purchase. Thor gives him no time to adjust, just pulls out and slams back in, squeezing Loki’s ass hard enough to bruise. “ _Mine_ ,” he growls, loving the way Loki’s ass bounces with the force of his thrusts. “Only I can give this to you.”

Loki makes a choked moan, turning his head to look over his shoulder at Thor. Thor blinks, and Loki transforms back into the Loki that he knows—the pale skin, the dark shoulder length hair. “Brother,” Loki moans, reaching under himself to grasp his cock, stroking to the rhythm of Thor’s hips.

“By the gods,” says Thor, leaning forward to bite at Loki’s neck, leaving a mark there that he hopes Loki will not hide. “By the gods, my beloved.”

Loki chokes on a moan, pushing his hips back, coming all over his hand and the sheets, hips raised high off the bed, looking like a cheap whore.

Thor fucks and fucks in, chasing and chasing his orgasm, Loki’s body so tight around his cock.

“Thor,” Loki says quietly, looking vulnerable for the first time in a long time.

It sends Thor over the edge.

He slams his hips in, keeping his cock there as his orgasm hits him. He blacks out at the edges, collapsing onto Loki.

Loki bares his weight for only a few minutes. “Remove yourself from me,” he demands, swatting at Thor’s thigh.

Thor grunts, pulling out and collapsing on the bed beside him.

Loki is back to looking like Patrick. He looks boyish as he lies there, almost sweet. He breathes heavily, eyes blinking lazily.

“Jonathan,” he says playfully, smirking.

“ _Jonny_.” Thor corrects. “If I am to stay, you must get it correct, _Patrick_.”

“Mother will be most displeased.”

Thor nods. “She will summon me when she needs me.” He crowds into Loki’s space, cuddling him.

“Remove your arms from me,” demands Loki, but there is no viciousness to his voice.

“Patrick likes to cuddle,” says Thor, stuffing Loki under his body more comfortably. Loki does nothing to fight him off. He thinks that this is weakness, but he needs it and enjoys it as much as Thor.

“You don’t know him,” mumbles Loki, but he sighs, tilting his head just enough to kiss at Thor’s jaw. “Did Mother have to disguise your beard as well?”

“Demanding,” says Thor fondly. “I will grow one just for you, dear brother.”

Loki does not reply, but Thor feels him smile against his skin.


End file.
